


Spice Jars

by Zizzani



Series: The World Plus Tenn [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, i wanted to explore tennis character a bit, idek what this title is i didn't have one, this is mostly just an experiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zizzani/pseuds/Zizzani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kende stumbles across a few of Tenn's prosthetic designs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spice Jars

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short writing sample to explore a character of mine. Feedback is always welcome :)

“What’s it like?”

Kende paused her reaching for the shelf, startled by the question. Turning her head to peek over her shoulder, she resumed straining for the spices just out of her reach as she responded.

“What’s what like?”

“Walking.”

Kende started at the word, her fingers brushing the edge of one of the larger spice jars, causing them to fall in a loud clattering torrent over the counter top and the floor. She winced as one struck her in the temple, covering her head protectively with her forearms.

“What do you mean?” Kende probed after she’d finished hissing in pain.

“I mean, what does it feel like to walk? Is carrying your body tiring? Like, is it heavy?” Tenn elaborated, give her thighs an experimental wiggle.

Kende looked down at the younger girl: She sat in a shiny white wheelchair, her long silver hair spilling over her shoulders from where she’d left it down. In her lap sat a sketchbook, complicated diagrams and hastily scrawled notes filling the page like labyrinth. Her legs, which ended just above where the knee should start, poked out slightly over the edge of the chair’s seat, the flesh curving around the end of the femur like soft dough.

“I dunno. Not really? I mean yeah your body’s heavy, but most people have enough strength in their legs to hold themselves up because they’ve been doing it from a very young age. So the muscles develop in tandem with your body’s growth, kinda,” Kende trailed off as she crouched to begin scooping up some of the fallen spices from the otherwise spotless kitchen floor.

She paused to peek up at Tenn, who was frowning very hard at her legs, her pen spinning furiously in her hand like a pinwheel. After a few seconds, she drew the pen down to her sketchbook, her hand flying frantically across the page, adding fresh notes and drafting out rough sketches of even more complex diagrams.

“What makes you ask?”

Tenn’s head flicked up, and she snapped the sketchbook shut in a way that was far too innocent not to be suspicious. Kende did her best not to raise an eyebrow.

“I was just wondering, ‘cause I can lift my body with my arms, but even though I have the strength it still gets tiring sometimes. I thought it might be the same with walking.”

“Well, yeah. I mean walking and standing get tiring after a while,” Kende responded, her voice straining.

Tenn glanced down to see Kende reaching for where one of the jars had fallen in a particularly obscure place between the cooker and the fridge.

“I got it!” Tenn cried, slipping out of her chair to the floor as she pulled herself towards the gap. Leaning down, she snaked her small arm into the space between the appliances, groping blindly until her fingers curled around the smooth casing of the spice.

“Huh, cinnamon,” Tenn mused as she pulled her arm out of the gap, rolling the jar between her fingers.

“My favourite,” Kende hummed as she plucked the spice from Tenn’s hand, placing it back in it’s home a top the shelf.

Tenn pulled herself back towards her chair, her thighs gliding across the floor behind her like a train. Reaching for the chair, she tried to pull it round to face her, but the locking mechanism on the wheel jammed with a loud grinding sound, and the chair tilted sharply, hanging at an ominous angle for a second before collapsing on top of her. The sketchbook fell out of the seat, scooting across the floor before falling open to one of the later pages.

“Tenn!” Kende gasped, hopping of where she had been kneeling on the counter and rushing forward. “Let me help!”

“NO!”

Kende stopped immediately, her outstretched arms dropping helplessly by her sides as her friend held up a hand to stop her advance. Tenn awkwardly pushed the chair off herself, her face screwed up haughtily, as if she had a grudge match with her aid.

“I can do it,” she insisted, propping herself up with one hand as she yanked the chair upright with the other.

Kende had to admit, for such a small girl, Tenn was a lot stronger than she looked. Once the chair was upright, Tenn dragged herself to the front of the chair, resting her chin on the seat as she grabbed one of the arms. Her legs wriggled underneath her as she strained to push off the stumps. Grabbing the other arm, Tenn pulled herself sharply forward with a small huff, landing in the seat sideway.

“Sure you don’t want any help?” Kende asked quietly.

She knew better than to push her friend once she’d set her mind to something.

“I’m not paralysed,” Tenn grumbled through gritted teeth as she shifted her body in small jerks until she was comfortably facing forwards in the seat again.

Once she was settled, her eyes looked around wildly, searching for the sketchbook that had come tumbling down after the chair. She gesticulated towards the small book as her eyes landed on it, suddenly shy.

“Can you… um… Can you get that for me?”

Kende smiled gently: She knew Tenn hated having to ask for help. Bending down, Kende plucked the sketchbook off the floor by one corner of the cover, the pages of the book flying open to reveal draft upon draft upon draft of prosthetic designs, each carefully annotated with notes like “material too bulky” and “refine for less wind resistance”.

“Wooooow, someone’s been busy,” Kende whistled, handing the book over to Tenn without rifling through it.

Tenn shut the book with considerable force, holding the closed pages to her chest protectively.

“It’s just silly stuff,” she mumbled, not looking her friend in the eye. A small hint of blush crept into her cheeks, and Kende bit her lip to stifle a chuckle.

“Are you building yourself some legs?” she asked offhandedly, picking a piece of fruit out of the bowl on the countertop and tossing it between her hands.

Tenn sighed, and Kende knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Yeah,” Tenn replied, defeated. She dropped the sketchbook back to her lap and began thumbing through the pages. “But I can’t get them to work yet. They need a sustainable power source.”

“Good luck finding something like that in this day and age,” Kende said dismissively, and Tenn shot her an annoyed glare.

“I _know_ , but there’s no other way I can get them to function without a power aid. Solar energy just isn’t enough.”

Kende observed her friend as her small hands traced the intricate designs, the look of utter longing on her face causing her to bite her lip. Tenn hated pity, and Kende knew her sympathy would not be welcome.

“I think it’s cool,” she said instead. Tenn glanced at her, a knowing look of trepidation in her eyes. “I could never design something like that, I don’t got the smarts.” Kende concluded, tapping her temple with two fingers to punctuate the point.

Tenn smiled with visible relief, her amber eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun.

“You’re literally going to make your own legs. That’s incredible, Tenn,” Kende enthused, encouraged by her friend’s change in demeanour.

She hopped up on the counter and poked the younger girl in the shoulder with her toe.

“Stop flaunting those,” Tenn said with a chuckle, waving away the invading foot.

“Hey you should get used to them,” Kende replied with a grin, “You’re gonna be walking soon after all.”

Tenn eyebrow’s shot up for a second, before her expression melted into a devious smile.

“Oh, these aren’t for walking,” she said mysteriously, and Kende cocked her head quizzically to the side in silent question.

“These,” Tenn continued softly as the sketchbook fell open to her most recent design, “are for flying.”


End file.
